Deltora Shattered
by Kiiro Pond
Summary: His face distorted in that innocent smile of his, Temythas followed those well-worn roads on his way to revenge, or at least some bit of shattered glory. INDEFINITE HAITUS. Waiting to be rewritten.
1. Dream

Under the cover of night, a lone shadow silently slipped through the bars of the city gate. Its form wavered, distorted; and once through the bars, it took the figure of a human male.

The city was dark. The only light came from the few lit windows in the palace, looming dark above. The male merged smoothly with the shadows of the sleeping chit, and if he moved onward, towards the blacksmith's forge, he was not seen.

Blacker than the night itself, the bird circled, searching for the figure it had followed from the west. It circled, but knowing better, did not cry out.

Breaking from the shadows, the figure ran along a stone path leading past the forge, his footsteps making little sound on the rough rock.

He stopped just before the forge gate. Bending down, his fingers traced small footprints in the thin layer of dust coating the stone. Slowly, he lifted a bit of dust to his nose. And that small movement alerted the bird to where he would be. It spiraled upward, and turned towards the palace. It was an unnoticeable shadow as it flew through one of the darkened windows, open.

No motions to betray his worries, doubts, the male slipped inside the gate and walked swiftly towards a small shed, right of the forge. The door made only the slight sound of rusty hinges as he pulled it open; he slipped inside, and it swung closed behind him.

Inside the shed would have been dark, if not for the full moon shining through a small gap high in the wall. From here, he could see the city gate, the path leading past it.

As that would be needed only later, he settled in the dark to make plans for the future, with not even a twitch of his face giving his thoughts away. But he would have to be accepted in the city—and perhaps even the palace—to achieve his goals.

Later, hours perhaps, he looked up, his excited eyes glinting wild in the darkness. All appeared to be ready, perfect. Now it was just a matter of time; and patience.

Lost in thoughts for bittersweet revenge, the male didn't notice soft footsteps beyond the wall. He didn't hear the quiet breathing as she pressed her ear to the door. He wouldn't meet her for a long time….


	2. Eternal

_Author: Sorry I couldn't get this up sooner, I was having writer's block. And it is only thanks to Evangeline Crow that I have finished. Thank you Evan-chan! (I can call you that???)_

_Jarred: *reads over shoulder* The death grip is *_scary*_. _

_Author: Yes, it is. But then, you know from experience, don't you???_

_Jarred: I thought we weren't supposed to give any spoilers._

_Author: That wasn't a spoiler._

_Jarred: *rolls eyes* Fine. *Steals paper*_

_Author: Jarred. . . . *chases around room*_

_Jarred: I just want to read it. *innocent eyes*_

_Author: Read it then, *Princey-boy* And this is chapter 2 of Deltora Shattered._

The red eyes flicked back and forth methodically. She watched the humans silently, as they moved about beneath and beyond the roof of the house on which she perched, in the outskirts of Del. The girl knew three thins about humans, only three:

_They were easy to hunt._

_They communicated in a very strange way; _

_And they were tasty, very tasty. _

She did not speak any human language, or understand it. The girl didn't' really have a name. I she identified herself under any name that could be translated to human-speak, it would be the first few things she had ever seen; blood, and stone. The girl seemed to deserve this name—her ruby eyes were hard as stone and her fingernails and lips stained with blood from her last meal.

It was concentration that hardened her eyes today. She was searching for someone. She'd just picked up his strange scent. Blood-Stone didn't understand the boy's scent; it was strange and inhuman, yet he _looked_ like any normal young adult human.

She did, however, know something about his scent. It smelled even more tasty than human.

She glided to the next building; following the scent. A boy stared up at her with incredulous hazel eyes, but the girl continued on her way—she had to keep her concentration. This place was filled with the scents of smoke and metal and it became difficult to follow the scent trail. It took her only a few moments more to pick up the scent thread once again, and to continue her predatory search.

The red-eyed girl found what she was looking for in a shed-like building. The predator was smart for only being eight or nine years old; she was humanoid in every aspect but her strangely colored eyes and hair.

Because of the girl's instinct and intelligence, she knew that it would be idiotic to attack her prey in the enclosed, windowless space. No, the black-and-red-haired girl waited; minutes, hours, nearly a day she waited. She was motionless all that time, then, in an instant, sprang into action.

* * *

The dark haired boy climbed the stone wall behind the forge, scanning the yard with cautious eyes as he landed on the other side. He noted the motionless figure; she was beside the shed, plainly waiting for him to show himself.

_Oh, but it's not that easy._

He approached her, silently but in plain view. She was downwind of him—she wouldn't know he was there until he wished it so. Temythas made no sound as he stood behind her, listening to her quiet breathing as she waited for him. He leaned forward, his mouth beside her left ear, and whispered, 'It is foolish to so often wear such a form."

As Temythas had suspected, she whipped around; not understanding the words, but knowing by scent the boy she had been hunting; her prey.

Her red eyes were confused; but her fingernails were already inches long, and she had but a moment's hesitation as the nails were at his throat.

A flash of silver; they were gone; the hand that had returned the dagger to his belt, around her neck, squeezing, lifting her off the ground.

Temythas watched her eyes, scared, flicker from her broken nails, to his face, and back to the nails. He saw them widen, her gaze turning from fear to terror, as she began to feel the effects of the death grip.

She was a cat who had pounced on a _very_ dangerous mouse, and like a cat she knew that running was the best chance of survival. She writhed helplessly in his grip.

Seeing her tactics, Temythas loosened his grip on her neck, his expression pained. Her eyes didn't change, but she hesitantly lifted her hands to pull his away from her neck.

He couldn't kill her; he knew _that_ all too well. However. . . .

A slight jerk of his arm and her hands lost their hold on his. He smiled, his grip slowly tightening. . . .


	3. Lonely

_Evan: !!!!!!!!_

_Kiiro: *braces self for glomp* Uhhh, hi._

_Evan: *Glomps* HIYA_

_Kiiro: *gets glomped* *quotes Charlie the Unicorn* Yeah._

_(I DO NOT OWN CHARLIE THE UNICORN, ETC. ETC.)_

_Jarred: *appears out of nowhere* Whacha doing???_

_Evan: !!! *glomps Jarred*_

_Kiiro: *shakes head* You two are impossible._

_Evan: But.. he ends u—*stops self from giving spoiler*_

_Kiiro: NOBODY. CARES. WHO. HE. ENDS. UP. WITH. . . . _

_Evan+Jarred: I do._

_Kiiro: wow. *it's the Door. . . . the Door can see into your mind. . . . The Door can see into your SOUL . . . . . .*_

_(I DO NOT OWN CHARLIE THE UNICORN, ETC. ETC.)_

_Evan: *sigh* anyways, what's this one called, It's gotta be an L, right?_

_Kiiro: D. E. L. T. O. R. A. So, yes, this is an L. Ummm, let's call it Lonely._

_Evan: Well okay. This is chapter three of Deltora Shattered, Lonely._

Blood-Stone gasped and spluttered. Her instincts were screaming for her to get away from this thing holding onto her, but his grip was too strong. She was grasping at the last straws of desperate measures; her only option was to play dead. She let her little form go limp, quieted her pulse and breathing.

The grip tightened, then everything was flying. The distant sound of a crash, a flash of pain, darkness.

* * *

Blood-Stone's eyes opened, and immediately closed once more. Pain stabbed through her throat, and her head felt split. Her teeth gritted; she again tried to open her eyes. The world spun as sight, scent and silence crashed through her senses. Predatory senses flicked out into the darkness.

With knowledge of her surroundings, Blood-Stone bolted upright; the first of many mistakes that day. The world turned itself in a dizzy waltz in her head, but she stood despite her dancing vision. Her instinctual brain sensed the gentle _shwuff_ of cloth falling to the floor, but discarded the information.

Once the world had settled, Blood-Stone stood for a moment, then bolted for the single door in her former prey's shed residence. Blood-Stone didn't understand how she had gotten there, or, why she was still alive, but the fight or flight instinct was the option she chose after her former prey's almost deadly actions.

A bar as strong as metal slammed against her chest; a strong arm. Blood-Stone's red eyes glared into the boy's brown ones.

She let her teeth reform into sharp fangs and bit down hard. Light, clear blood burst into the girl's mouth; sweet, hearty, and very, very, _very_ tasty. Blood-Stone tore away a bit of his skin and flesh as she sprung for the door and was gone in a flurry of torn fabric, black, and red.


	4. Terror

_Author: Sorry I didn't get this up earlier. Jarred was being mean and refused to cooperate. *sulks* Anyways, it's up now._

_Jarred: I was not being mean. I didn't do anything. I just corrected you—_

_Author: A lot…_

_Jarred: —about how you were writing it…a little...._

_Author: *glares daggers at Jarred*_

**OK, just imagine the visual for glaring daggers……..**

_Author: Now, slave…_

_Jarred: I'm _not _your slave!_

_Author: Introduce the chapter...._

_Jarred: Okay, fine…This is chapter four of Deltora Shattered, and apparently called _Terror_._

Blood-Stone had been stupid, and she knew it in her inhuman mind. She had bolted from the shed and taken a sharp turn left. It took her moments to immerse herself in the swarms of humans.

A sight-scent memory came to mind. Blood-Stone retraced her steps to the building that smelled of melted metal and smoke. If her former prey became the predator, he'd find it hard to follow her scent here.

She jumped up to the roof of the half-open building. She yawned; apparently unconsciousness was not a valid replacement for sleep. Blood-Stone tried to ignore the acrid scents so she could take a nap. Turning off her olfactory senses was difficult, but Blood-Stone prevailed, curling up in a ball and trying to breathe deeply.

A sharp, low pitched sound came from below her and her concentration shattered; all of a sudden, she was falling.

_Thud, ow._

Blood-Stone let out a _YIPE _of surprise.

Her eyes met a pair of very familiar hazel ones—they belonged to the young boy she'd seen when hunting her prey. They were full of a strange emotion she would later know as curiosity.

* * *

Jarred stumbled along the side alleys of Del, tripping over air as he ran, once again, away from the palace. His brother, Endon, should know where he was if his parents worried. Jarred smiled in bitter satisfaction, picturing the fuss his parents wouldn't make. The sound of his footsteps echoed loud in the small space, his heart pounding harder than usual for no reason at all.

He avoided the crowded main streets, turning corner after corner. Jarred rarely grew bored of the familiar routine.

There was a light up ahead. He halted just before the sunlight blinded him. He lingered in the dark and quiet for a moment longer, but in a nearly silent moment was at the forge gate.

He did not first notice the figure out of curiosity. Nor was it because he saw a movement, heard a breath. But why-ever it was, Jarred looked up. He looked up, and she came down. Not from the sky, as it might seem at first, but from her previous perch on the roof.

The girl was only slightly taller than Jarred, with long black and red hair that looked as if it had never been brushed. It was this she pushed slowly to the side as she returned his gaze with a hard glare, revealing ruby eyes.

He took a step back, but did not turn to flee. He had seen this girl before. Judging by her stare, she was a deadly enemy. It would be foolish to run.

And so they remained for quite a while, and her eyes took a hint of curiosity.

But he didn't stay still to discover what she could do. Rather, Jarred did the most irrational thing he could think of. He turned, walked away. He didn't care if he lived or died, though. Jarred was sick of being the _king's son,_ the _palace boy._ No one would miss him if he died, though he was confident he'd get away—a few scratches and maybe a few scars—alive.

But Jarred did not have time to think of such matters, as the next moment he was struggling for his life. For, in less than a heartbeat, a hand closed around his throat, dragging him backwards….

_Author: I had other things to do, okay??? Well, this didn't turn out as well as I expected, but whatever. Anyways, thanks for reading this, and please review. _


	5. Odium

_Author: Hi. So this is finally finished. I know it took a while, but Fallow was being stubborn. No, Fallow, I'm not insulting you. I'm just explaining to the readers that you didn't particularly enjoy me putting you in the fanfic. _

_Fallow: *rolls eyes*_

_Author: So, you're being friendly for the sake of the readers?_

_Fallow: Of course not. I just want to see it when you write the fate of my—_

_Author: *Puts hand over Fallow's mouth* You. Will. Not. Give. Any. Spoilers. We. Don't. Want. Anyone. Knowing. About. Who. You're. Related. To. Got it? _

_Fallow: *pulls hand away* Get off me, _human.

_Author: Hey! _

_Fallow: And while she does that, *glances disgustedly at Kiiro* I could tell you all I wanted to. But I won't. _

_Author: *from other side of room* Shut up Fallow. Anyway, readers, enjoy. You know, have lots of fun. And please don't hate me._

Afternoon sunlight slanted into the room from the single window beside the bed. The glow lit the room pastel, rainbows of pale blue and green and yellow. A boy lay on the bed, almost hidden by the covers, his dark hair spread out across the pillow. The door closed, swinging back quietly. A tall figure stepped into the shadows of the corridor. He looked around quickly, then turned and ran down a flight of steps, passing the kitchen, then, as he headed towards the city. But the king was there, in a chair with one of his sons beside him, looking over his shoulder with an eager smile the king himself had often worn when he was just a child, asking questions the servant could hear when he approached.

Casually, he leaned against a wall, listening.

"Is it really that simple?" the boy, Endon, asked. He spoke quickly, blending the words.  
"Of course not." His father laughed, but the child frowned.

"But you said…."

"I know what I said," Lief told his son.

"If you want to know more; grade ones are easy to identify, and therefore easy to kill; they stay in pairs, and their mark is usually in plain view, though not always recognizable unless you know what you're looking for. Grade twos are harder to identify; they can produce their own body head, and their mark is harder to find. But they can only hold a form for three days on end, until they lose control."

The father and son looked up. The servant boy smiled.

"Temythas," the king muttered.

"Ols?" He suggested.

Endon stared at Temythas, confused. He began to ask a question, silenced by his father's hand, and stared. Lief nodded; if he was confused, his face showed none of it, only reluctant approval.

"I can tell you more."

Endon contemplated this for a moment, looking up with his eyes sparkling. Lief held up a hand, the traditional signal indicating silence.

"If you will excuse us, Temythas, we have more, umm, important matters to discuss."

"Fine." The dark haired servant bowed slightly as he left, opening the door but pausing, his hand on the doorknob, waiting for clues. Lief turned back to the prince, lowering his voice but keeping his casual air.

"He still wants Deltora." Lief sighed. "But I've had enough fighting for a lifetime."

"Do you think he has someone here in Del, watching us?" Endon asked.

The sound of a door clicking into place. Temythas slipped into the corridor beyond. They were fools. He doubted Endon would be any stronger than his brother, but he was smart enough. _Oh, if only you knew. . . ._

* * *

Watching with cold eyes, Temythas pulled back his arm, and the prince hit the wall, unconscious. Temythas looked up innocently. The girl was staring at him; her eyes once again scared, her head cocked to one side, judging him most likely. He pushed the hair out of his face, turning as he did so towards the sound of loose pebbles, leaving the child staring. A man walked toward them, his eyes cold and hostile, mouth curved in a familiar smirk. Temythas took a step back, startled. Why was _he_ here? What did the Shadow Lord want this time?

The man laughed, a sound cold as his eyes, looking around the dark haired servant at the girl.

"You've made yourself a friend. How sweet." He mocked Temythas, his voice dripping with malice, silky and smooth.

"Now, tell me, child, how did this come upon?"

"I have my reasons." Temythas was determined to keep his voice level.

"As usual. Now," the man muttered, "As you know you can't fight me, can't possibly win, I want the girl."

"No." Narrowing his eyes, Temythas continued. "I am under strict orders not to let the Shadow Lord have her, not to let _you_."

"From whom, I wonder." He was playing with words, playing with emotions, this stranger whom Temythas knew so well. He was expecting anger, maybe; any satisfying reaction.

Voice level, the dark-haired boy replied. "That is none of your concern, _Fallow_, but if you wouldn't mind, I have business to attend to."

The stranger called Fallow nodded. He moved then, past Temythas and the girl, not looking back but heading towards the palace, under orders, probably, missions of no good little better than Temythas's own.

Sighing, he turned back to the girl, but she was no longer there. _No loss,_ he tried to persuade himself as he picked up the boy, making his way back to the palace. Jarred was pathetic, not worthy of being prince, someday being king unless Temythas finally struck his first blow. His face distorted in that innocent smile of his, Temythas followed those well-worn roads on his way to revenge.

* * *

It was nighttime. No one was around to see the two figures as they walked under the new moon; no one could see their shadows if anyone was there anyway. A shrill whistle pierced the silence; pounding feet, and a large creature halted beside them. The vraal nuzzled the figure on the left, a slender female who murmured gentle words to it, indicating her companion to mount.

"Go on. It won't hurt you, you know." Her quiet, smooth voice was barely audible even in the silence and hot breath from the monster.

Her companion, a tall boy of seventeen, shook his head, climbing onto the vraal's back. He looked down at her, smiling.

"I've never understood why you tame these things. Shouldn't you be deathly afraid of them, or something?" His rough voice was laughing, mocking her without the teasing.

"Why?" She asked innocently. "I wasn't afraid of them then, either."

He shrugged; she mounted the vraal, whispering a command, and it took off at high speeds across the wasteland, its feet making loud, sharp sounds against stone, its breath fogging the air before it. The girl laughed, her face breaking into a joyous smile, her dark braids streaming behind her as her right arm hugged the neck of the monster.

The vraal slowed, stopped, and the companions slid off its back. The boy held out his hand for her to help her down, but at her glare, blushed and withdrew his arm.

"How do you handle it, having the weight of enemy lands on your shoulders?" He asked, smile vanished to be replaced by honest curiosity, even if it was a question he had asked a million times before.

"Oh, but I don't." She replied to the question the same answer she gave those million times he had asked before. "But if you really must know, I'm nervous. I mean, I know there are King Lief's kids over in Deltora, and you here, but still. Anyway, I'm nervous for you too. One of these days you're going to get seriously hurt, Lysander, and I just wouldn't be able to stand that."

Lysander put a hand on her left shoulder; she flinched, but did not move away, as if she were used to it. Acting brave for her sake, he responded, "I don't mind being heir. Really. And anyway, there's nothing either of us can do about the Arena. They make me fight. But I'll be okay. I've managed that much up till now. Unlike you." He smiled as he said the last words; the girl leaned over on him as she lifted her right arm, playfully slapping him. "Hey."

He pulled her up, mounted the vraal, and as it raced across the Shadowlands, the sun began to rise, and the wasteland turned an almost beautiful shade of pale blue and purple.

And through the silence a voice rang out, tearing away all peace from the night before. "Lysander. You're needed at the Arena. We have visitors."

* * *

_Ok, just to clear this up with all you readers: The second section takes place __**before**__ the first section. Oh, and for all those wondering, the girl in the third section doesn't have her left arm. I'll explain what happened in later chapters. And yes, the vraal is tame. That's all the spoilers I'm going to give. I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up; I'm not exactly sure of the events until this one major event when they go and meet this one awesome character and he would strangle them (you know, like the Ol way of strangling them, because he's like grade two or something, and he'd kill them, only he wouldn't stand a chance against the other awesome character whom I need to restore dignity to) only he doesn't and it turns out that he and Temythas are friends in a way and—well, I'll just shut up now._


	6. Risorgimento

An aging man stood in the doorway of the small hut. A dark haired boy and a taller girl faced him, the boy shaking his head as the man spoke.

"…that you're carrying messages to Del. And if—"

"Yes, father, we know. Can we leave already?" That was the boy, turning to his sister for support. But she only murmured, "Quiet, Theseus," and patted him on the head.

Their father sighed.

"I suppose so," he muttered after a worried hesitation. "Goodbye, then, kids. Come back in one piece—well, two pieces, one for each of you."

Without waiting for the final words, Theseus turned, dragging his sister along as he walked away, out of view from the cottage.

Once outside the town, Broome, Theseus slowed his pace, letting his sister stop to catch her breath. He rolled his eyes then, and she straightened up.

"They're sometimes just so _overprotective_," the boy muttered disgustedly. "How do you put up with it, Thalia, all of it?" He absently flicked a strand of his hair out of his face. His hair was shaggy and long, hanging midway down his back, and it looked as if it had once been victim to a really bad haircut.

"Oh, you'll get used to it," his sister told him, her smile seeming to say, _It's the way of the world, kid. For now, you'll just have to live with it._

"Hey." Theseus turned away, his arms cross, his face distorted in a childish frown.

Now it was Thalia's turn to roll her eyes. "Theseus, we don't have time for this. You know our mission. Our first stop is Del, and that's days' travel from here, so the sooner we leave, the better, and the sooner we'll arrive." She spoke in the practiced tone of someone who has had years teaching an unresponsive pet, or younger brother.

"Yeah, yeah, I know all that." Theseus faced his sister and stuck his tongue out. She hugged him.

* * *

_Author's note: Have you guessed it? Know who they are? Know why they're going to Del? *wonders vaguely if Kiiro should stop interrogating readers* No, they're not all OCs. Their father, Doom…you meet him next…Lief…duh…uhhh, Fallow…and the other ones. *wanders off to steal Temy* Anyway, it's not _all _OCs. There are quite a few from the first series. Oh, and by the way, if you hate blood and violence, or can't stand it or something, just ignore the third section. It follows my motto for the world, but I still want you to read this, so if you do have problems with blood and violence and the like, take the above advice. Chapter 7 will be out soon, and it'll probably explain the plan they're talking about in the next section. Anyway, dear readers, read on._

A palace guard stepped in his way, muttered something inaudible, and scrutinized the traveler. It was dusk, and the man had entered Del less than an hour earlier under the pretense of a wanderer; and indeed, a wanderer he was.

The guard stared at him.

"I wish to speak to one of the palace servants," he told the guard, an obviously well practiced excuse. "He's my son, and…"

"Your name?"

"They call me Doom."

"Ah. The leader of that Resistance thing, I take it, years ago when the Shadow Lord was in control?"

"Yes." A muttered response. Doom was impatient.

"Very well. Who is this servant you wish to speak to?" The guard tilted his head ever so slightly.

Doom hid his impatience with practiced silence. "Temythas. He started working here a few months ago."

The guard muttered another few other inaudible words, and let Doom pass.

Doom knew where Temythas would be; he had been given detailed instructions the last time he had visited the palace. Doom found the place quickly. The palace servant was inside when Doom arrived, sitting in one of those wooden chairs they always give to visitors, lost within an aged paperback. Hearing the door, he looked up, carefully placing a shred of paper between its tattered but carefully preserved pages. He smiled, and spoke familiar travelers' words; "Hello, Doom. Long time no see." Doom shook his outstretched hand.

Pulling up a similar chair, Doom faced Temythas and asked, "Your plans. How are they coming along?"

"It should be in just a few more weeks. First, though, I've got to teach the girl—"

Uh oh. This could be a major drawback in their plans.

"—how to talk." The servant smiled one of his innocent smiles. Doom ignored the comment for a moment.

"We haven't talked much about what you will do with them once you have them. The Shadow Lord split them up—a wise move. But you would know that only too well."

Temythas sighed. "I suppose I'll do something similar to my former master's technique. I'll think on it."

"So this girl…." Doom was curious, very slightly, but curious nonetheless. "Who is she?"

"That, my friend," Temythas said, "is something I can't tell you. But I'll put it this way; I've known her for most of her life, but she only met me a little while ago. She's half, you know, what I am, only two rather than three." Doom nodded. The way he said it made Doom understand perfectly.

"So you're going to Tora then?" Another question. Doom didn't agree with the servant's plan, but he had promised, as payment for telling Temythas so much about his past (Temythas's past, not Doom's). After all, the king's Chief Advisor, back when Doom lived at the palace as Jarred, had often spoken about the dark haired servant's mother. It had only been muttered conversation with himself, but Doom had been a skilled eavesdropper.

Temythas thought before he spoke. "Of course, I won't take them into the city, but yes, I will be traveling in that direction. I rather dislike Tora."

"Which is only natural." Doom finished his already completed sentence. "And speaking of scattering them, you could entrust each of them to one person. I'm not sure of the details; it was just an afterthought."

The servant shrugged. "That's an interesting idea, Doom, but I doubt I'll use it. Anyway, you may leave now." And he waved his hand towards the door. "Oh, and before you go; don't be late next time I call for you."

* * *

_Author's Note: If you are reading this with young children, or have problems with violence, DO NOT READ ON. The Chief Advisor, for all you folks who might forget, is Prandine, a grade three Ol. Teme's plan gets explained next chapter, hopefully. If you still have no idea as to what's going on, please continue reading the story. It _will_ get explained. Oh, and please give me tips on my writing style. I want to know if it's good enough to get published if I wrote a book._

"You can't keep calling yourself Blood-Stone. It makes no sense." Temythas looked at her with eyes that searched for her consent, but didn't need it. The red and black haired girl looked at him, puzzled.

"_That_ makes no sense. I am Blood-Stone."

Temythas shook his head. "You need a name."

"A name? Is Teme your _name_?"

'Teme' sighed. "One of many."

"Can my name be Blood-Stone?"

"That may not be wise. How about we name you after a red stone?"

"Like?"

"Rhodochrosite?"

"I don't like it."

"Garnet?" The girl shook her head.

"Pyrope?" Another shake.

"Then… let's call you Ruby," Temythas concluded. Blood-Stone—Ruby, nodded; her eyes brightened. "I like it," she stated pointlessly.

"Now, Ruby, I have some business to see to; go meet some people, make some friends," Temythas said, waving her off. Ruby scampered out of the shed she and her former prey had been staying in.

She wandered into the 'Marketplace.' It was still early morning; there were no people out yet. The crimson eyed girl sat on a roof to wait. She'd been in training the past few weeks, training to talk, to _behave_ around prey food Temythas called _Human_. He'd taught her how to restrain herself, and how to fool them that she was one of them. The thing was, her diet was still entirely carnivorous, though human flesh was gouged away from the list of the things she allowed herself to eat. However, humans still smelled so _tempting_, and a certain smell was about to set Ruby off—cow blood off a woman fresh from the butcher.

Her instincts kicked into activity; time slowed, her vision became crystal clear. Ruby's red nails reformed themselves into points four inches long—deadly weapons as sharp as knives.

The double-color-haired girl leapt from the roof, landing squarely before the meat bearing woman with a feline grace.

The prey blinked once before sharp red objects buried themselves in the flesh of her throat. Dark red fluid tricked down Ruby's arm. Her hand constricted; the warm liquid flowed faster and thicker. Prey's body slackened, crumpling as Ruby released it. The girl licked a finger, setting her predatory senses spinning and screaming for the hunger writhing in her stomach to be satiated. She knelt by the warm corpse.

Her prey's dark staring eyes met Ruby's as her hand ran along one rib in the cooling tones. Again her hand constricted. Blood oozed from the new gap under the woman's rip. Ruby grasped deeper, cracking the rib with a hard tug. She bent, extending her tongue to meet the wound.

By the time the second human stepped into the marketplace, all that was left of the woman was a letter addressed to some "Tira" and a pile of semi-bloody bones.

_Author's Note: Thank you, kind readers, for staying with me through all this torture. *clasps hands in front of chest* Please continue to read. And I'm so sorry I couldn't have this chapter out sooner. I had a five day school thing with no internet access, and then I went away for spring break, and I still had to finish writing it—with Evan, of course. Thank you for still being around to read and review this._


	7. Alone

The backpack slung over, Temythas re-entered the palace. It was as if the pack were weighted down with rocks; in a way, it was. Seven gems he walked in with, and with seven gems would he leave. And the servant knew where King Lief's room was; he had spent just under a year figuring out that kind of information, information that would be essential to his plan. And maybe he would be freed—no, it was too much to hope for.

The Belt was on the king's bedside table, laid out and glinting in the moon glow from the window. The dark haired servant approached it slowly, and hesitantly he ran a hand along the gems, memorizing their order. The next second his same hand held the pocket knife previously hidden in his pocket. He fit it into the slim crack between the Belt and the Diamond, but thought better of it and moved on to the Emerald; the Diamond could be dangerous. The gem slipped easily out of the palaces clutches. The emerald slid just as easily into its place; a real gem, yes, but not _the_ gem. And the stolen gem fell from the table to make a sharp ringing sound on the tiles.

Lief sat up; his eyes opened. Temythas froze, barely hidden by the shadows. The king looked at him.

"I knew there was a spy in Del," he muttered. He closed his eyes. The servant smiled; the king was asleep. He took advantage of the king's dream to get what he wanted.

"Excuse me, King Lief," Temythas began. "Could you, perhaps, let me see this gem? And could you, perhaps, give it to me?" And he placed the Belt and the knife in Lief's hands. And the king handed him the Diamond.

The dark haired servant bowed slightly, retrieving the Belt and placing the gem in his pack. Lief smiled, then, as if he knew him from long ago but couldn't remember where.

In minutes, the Belt was exactly as it had been before, and Temythas shut the door on the sleeping king with the seven gems of Deltora in his backpack.

If he had stayed a moment longer, he would have seen the bird fly past the window. If he had stayed a moment longer, he would have seen Lief roll over in his sleep and touch the Belt, would have sensed Lief's knowledge that the gems were not real. And if he had stayed a moment longer, he would have heard Lief's words before he slipped back into a dreamless sleep; "The spy has taken the gems." If he had stayed a moment longer, but he hadn't.

"Stop!"

Her strong voice rang through the Arena. The human stopped fighting, and the vraal brought him down. A palace of gazes trained on the long haired girl standing in the entrance to the arena, door wide open. She glared around at them with cold determination.

Dead silence.

She lifted her head to yell over the wind. "Stop. Let me fight."

A murmur among the crowd, and then a voice rose to combat her challenge.  
"You're just a girl, a child. You can't fight _here,_" it hissed.

The girl's eyes flashed an unnatural color of red. "You dare defy _me_, monster? _Me_?" Her faze defiantly scanned the crowd; her dark hair blew with the wind in every direction. The crowd drew its breath.

"This is no place for girls—"

An unseen shadow fell over the arena.

_Silence, fools. You speak to your future mistress in that manner? She wishes to fight. Step back and let her enter._

The shadow lifted, the arena still silent in its shivering. The wind picked up. The girl in the doorway lifted her face to the sky.

"You heard what he said," she screamed against the howls of the wind, and of the chained monster.

"Let me fight." This time she faced no protests.

_Girl and vraal, a large arena, and a storm._

_The girl walks forward, holds out her left arm, palm up. On her palm is a black smudge._

"_I want to free you." She speaks to the monster. "But first, I need you to do me a favor." She glances at her hand.  
"See this?" she asks, gesturing at the smudge on her palm._

"_I don't want it."_

_And the vraal hears its cue. It lunges forward; its mouth opens, exposing those deadly teeth. The girl flinches; her eyes show her fear, show that she is already regretting her decision, but she stands there nonetheless._

_The vraal is mere feet from her outstretched arm. She shuts her eyes, turns her face away, braces herself for the pain. A muffled crack._

_The vraal looks at the girl expectantly, blood dripping out of the side of its mouth. The girl cries out in agony, but doesn't fall. If she were any more human, she would be on the ground, immobilized by the pain and wishing for a swift death._

_She slowly opens her eyes, looks toward the monster. _

"_I told you I'd free you." She smiles, a smile filled with pain, but a smile either way. The monster makes no move to attack her._

_She brushes the hair out of her eyed with her left hand—no. She looks in confusion at her bloody shoulder and seems to realize for the first time that it's not there, the entire arm is not there._

_A gentle growl from the monster. She looks at it, runs toward it. She falls over. She is not used to having only one arm; she is unbalanced. _

_Unsteadily, she gets to her feet. The vraal walks toward her. She pulls a knife from her pocket with her right hand, cutting the collar that holds the monster chained inside the arena. The vraal roars, running for the open door. No one stops it._

_The girl collapses on the ground, unconscious._

_Author's Note: Hiya, all you readers! Well, that was chapter 7 of Deltora Shattered. The second part is confusing, I know, but—_

_Jarred: It was written about one of the character's past._

_Author: Exactly._

_Jarred: *pouts* But you didn't include me._

_Author: Yeah, I know that, but I didn't want to write Ruby._

_Jarred: Stop ignoring me because you don't know how to write the little—_

_Author: Don't you dare._

_Jarred: I wasn't going to._

_Evan: Be nice to the poor little miss...Oops, I was about to give that away..._

_Kiiro: Not you, too._

_Jarred: Hey, readers. Any of you know what's going on? In the first part?_

_Evan: OOOOH I do, I do!!!_

_Ruby: Me too O.O_

_Kiiro: All of you, shut up and don't give our confused little readers spoilers._

_Jarred: Or I shall steal your plot bunnies and feed them to the fluffy thing._

_Ruby: What fluffy thing? O.O_

_Evan: If you knew, you'd probably turn it into a murder weapon._

_Kiiro: The pink fluffy sea monster that eats plot bunnies—never mind, wrong fluffy thing._

_Jarred: Nope, that's right. It eats them. Or, of course, we could just go into your head and make your plot bunnies die of heart attacks._

_Ruby: Are plot bunnies fluffy?_

_Evan: It doesn't matter Ruby, see you next chapter, you getta meet your future—_

_Kiiro: *covers mouth with hand* Next chapter, then, all of you._


End file.
